Rilla My Rilla
by Starbrow
Summary: Rilla Blythe’s dreams and heartaches are about to come to a climax in this sequel to “Rilla of Ingleside.” Rilla/Ken
1. Coming Home

Author's note: As with many of L.M. Montgomery's books, I wanted more, please! after finishing "Rilla of Ingleside." This is a story I've started that gives you just that, but it will heat up plot-wise soon. This is just the first chapter. I desparately value comments – make a beginning author's day happy and drop me a note.

_Ken took the uncertain hand she held out, and looked at her. The slim Rilla of four years ago had rounded out into symmetry. He had left a school girl, and he found a woman – a woman with wonderful eyes and a dented lip, and rose-bloom cheek – a woman altogether beautiful and desirable – the woman of his dreams._

_"_Is_ it Rilla-_my-_Rilla?" he asked, meaningly._

_Emotion shook Rilla from head to foot. Joy – happiness – sorrow – fear – every passion that had wrung her heart in those four long years seemed to surge up in her soul for a moment as the deeps of being were stirred. She tried to speak; at first voice would not come. Then – _

_"Yeth," said Rilla._

She could not feel the beat of her own heart for the sound of his. Her tears, slipping from shining eyes, mingled with his as he lowered his lips to hers and kissed her with a sweetness and delight that she had dreamed about those four years. For a minute in time – or was it longer – words would not come, but that was no matter; they had no need to say anything just then. She was content to rest in the security of his arms around her waist and meet his eyes with a glance that spoke more than words.

When finally Rilla recovered her ability to articulate, she murmured, "Why didn't you write to me? At least that you were coming home. You can't know how long I've waited for this."

"Rilla!" By this point she had attempted to draw him inside the doorstep, but he confounded her efforts by once again taking her in his embrace. "How could you know of waiting? Those nights on the front, when all I could see was the line in front of me, all I could hear was the enemy shells, I would see your face and wonder if somehow it could be a heavenly light for me…like Beatrice through the Inferno. That's what I was reminded of over and over. I dreamt of coming home to you…but I'm ashamed that I had more fear of what I'd find there than I did on the battlefield."

"What do you mean?" she asked softly, unable to resist touching a stray lock of his hair.

"I was afraid…oh, of anything that could have happened. That you had gotten married, or left Glen St. Mary, or gone to the front as a nurse. And I found when I actually was on my way back…that my courage failed me. You have no idea how much I wanted to write to you."

He took her hand and kissed it, and she closed her eyes, wishing she could capture this moment and bottle it up. The riotous cascade of emotions showering down on her rendered her speechless again, but Ken had no complaints as he asked her the pivotal question and was rewarded with a deeply expressive gaze and smile sprinkled with tears.

_Short and sweet. But never fear, there will be more!_


	2. Rose of Joy

~*~

After that, speech, which had seemed so superfluous before, became the principle item of commodity (followed closely by kisses). Seated on the same couch on which Rilla had gone through such agonies of emotion at their last meeting there, the lovers enjoyed their first forthright and "loverly conversation," which was a bit one-sided, as Rilla was quite content to listen to her beloved's voice (she noted with satisfaction that it was as alluring and caressing as she had remembered it); and Ken, for his part, found it satisfaction himself to feast his eyes on Rilla as he spoke. 

They both had changed over the course of the years, but that was no surprise to either. Rilla recalled with a blush the flighty, schoolgirlish creature she must have seemed to Ken, matching his nineteen years (including one at the university) to her almost fifteen. She had no way of knowing the beautiful purity of this picture Ken had treasured during the long separation, and the even greater beauty of the transformation from a young girl on the verge of adulthood to a woman with eyes lit with love. She also did not know (and she would have thought it quite unfounded) that Ken was ruing the pale scar spanning across his cheek, for already this, like each of his features, had become inestimably dear to her. When he fell silent several times, she ran her finger over the outline of the scar, trailing over his lips and tracing the contours of his face. _This is what I have dreamed of so many nights_._ And it is real. Real._

They slipped into the oblivion of time that often takes over rational thought in such cases, and so an hour or perhaps several later, Rilla was startled to hear the door latch lifted as Jem entered, old faithful Dog Monday at his heels. Jem had come home only two weeks ago, and Rilla's heart still couldn't help but lift at the sight of him. Impulsively, almost instinctively she sprang up and hugged him. Still with a tired look about him, but the hollows of his face filled in now and walking with a far more relaxed gait, Jem smiled and rumpled his youngest sister's hair.

"Spider's gotten cuddly, has she?" Jem teased. Rilla scowled.

"Rilla, you are in mortal danger," Ken added, standing up. "We have a whole arsenal of past nicknames for you. Jem, good to see you!" They exchanged brief but firm handshakes, and Rilla, watching them, thought that perhaps there was a…companionship, or maybe a tacit understanding between those who had been in the war, even if they hadn't fought together. She had seen it here, with Jem and Jerry Meredith, various soldiers passing each other on the street…they shared some invisible bond that needn't be spoken aloud, but was there just the same. Even knowing the pain and scars they had sustained in body and soul, Rilla felt a flash of enviousness at merely the idea of being such kindred spirits with strangers and friends alike. It was a kind of empathy she had experienced so rarely in her life.

But here among her family and soon-to-be family, Rilla was drawn into the bond and treated as one of them; a new sensation, since the last time she had been in the company of Jem and Kenneth simultaneously, she had belonged decidedly in the kid department, or so she had felt. Now the age gap had narrowed considerably, and she was no less grown up than either of them, though far less experienced. Thus it was that she was both mortified and strangely delighted to once again be teased by the dear men in her life…simply to be together with them at all.

"Have you been back to Rainbow Valley yet?" Ken asked. "I've only just gotten back myself, actually. This was my first stop."

Jem gave him a knowing look of humor and answered, "Yes, I went to get mayflowers for Mother there. It was…right, I thought, to take them from our old world of magic. It's pretty overgrown by now…Rilla's been slacking off, I think." 

She glowered at him and countered, mock indignantly, "I've been busy, truly I have! Up until recently I haven't had time for such foolishness – stop laughing, you rascal! You're as bad as ever." 

"Don't give up all your foolishness, My Rilla," Ken said in his low, dusky voice that she always felt was meant just for her ears and as intimate as a kiss. She didn't have to look up to tell that his dark grey eyes were fixed on her. But she did anyways, just to know the thrill of making contact with that caressing gaze.

"And so you're going to steal away my little sister, are you, Kenneth Ford?" There was an unexpected note of protectiveness and, well, tenderness in Jem's voice. _Always the big brother, Jem is._ She sighed and flushed a little, but even more when Ken came up behind her and wound his arms around her waist.

"It's only stealing if you don't have the consent of the stealée," he said archly. "And I was most careful in securing the full and utter consent of this one." 

Jem grinned broadly, yet a little absently, his thoughts clearly led down a similar but separate track. Then, with a delicacy which Jem was not usually known for, he said, "May you find joy," and turned from the room, snapping his fingers for Dog Monday (who never left his side for a moment, and certainly did not need the cue). Rilla wondered if his new sensitivity to romance was Faith's doing. Her own heart full, she was disposed to be warm-hearted even to the minister's daughter who seemed worlds apart from herself, at least for awakening in Jem a romantic sensibility. 

Ken now noticed the decided advantages of his position and the solitude of the room, namely the inviting creaminess of Rilla's neck directly beneath his chin. He breathed a kiss at the silken skin where her shoulder and neck met, while drawing her closer to him. "Do you know I still have the rose you gave me?" he murmured when his lips were not otherwise engaged. "I carried it clear across France. I would take it out only when I could no longer help it from thinking about you. I can tell you it's seen a lot of use lately. It's nearly fallen apart by now."

She twisted in his arms and, though he was two hands taller than she, drew his head down to meet her uplifted face. "Then I shall have to give you a new rose."

~*~

Author's Note: You ARE going to comment, right? Yes, you are being irresistibly drawn to the comment section…you can't help yourself…;) I'm especially curious as to where you think the plot will turn, because I have a few tricks up my sleeves…

_I apologize in advance for the formatting, but I've saved this as an html doc and used the tags and they still aren't working. (This whole author's note should be in italics but it's not, and the dividers should be centered). Anybody want to help me?_

_One more thing: the title of this chapter is a reference from another children's classic. Can you tell which one?_


	3. Inner Light

"My happiness is so great, I'm almost ashamed to write it," Rilla penned in her diary that evening, having fled to the sanctuary of her bedroom. "The others – Mother and Dad and the girls – just arrived, laughing and talking, and while I was tempted to stay and see their dear familiar faces again, somehow I wanted time to reflect and not muddle my thoughts with a lot of noise. There has been such little romance in life these past four years that I want to treasure it up and capture as much of it as I can for those utterly practical times.

"Nan and Di just finished their terms at the schools where they've been teaching, so they will be home for at least a few weeks. It's been lovely to have so many of our long-scattered family and neighbors be home all at the same time. I still don't find my sisters to be true kindred spirits, as mother would say, but we all have grown a little closer for having lost our dear Walter. Mother is wonderful as usual, though (I'm ashamed to say) I was a little put out with her for being so happy when I was so desolate the past few days. I have felt out-of-place lately in our reunited family, and now that I have a reason to share their joy, I'm too happy to face them! The irony of life never ceases.

"I sent Ken home about half an hour ago. As beautiful as our love is, I must admit (to the confidences of this poor worn-out journal, who never tells tales) that it is a bit hard to reconcile four years of separation, with only a brief correspondence, in the space of two hours. My heart has been singing ever since I first saw him on our doorstep, yet I feel that there is so much I still have to learn about him. I worried that he didn't really want to stay so long, that no man however passionate and devoted would be in any sort of condition to sustain a romance after having just completed a journey from halfway around the globe. And then my treacherous mind started plaguing me with questions of how really well I know my fiancé! 

"But I am glad that the Fords' summer house, Mother's old House of Dreams, is not far outside the village. He promised to come back up tomorrow so we could begin making plans. Oh, how glorious it is to finally have something to _live_ for again!"

She tucked the green ribbon of the journal along the page's margin and closed the covers, dwelling for a minute in the peace of her reflections. The shadowy edges of twilight still clung to the night sky, though eager stars peeped through the inky canopy and overshown with their brilliance the pale light beyond the horizon. A crescent moon gave the faintest luminescence to Rainbow Valley, partially hidden from her window by a cluster of trees. But in the distant darkness, above the houses and streets and glens that lay between, a radiant point of light shone from the lighthouse over the Four Winds harbor, and she smiled with a sudden warmth of spirit as she turned from the windowsill and left to go down.

Unfortunately (Rilla sighed) her face practically gave her away. Much as she tried to temper her mood with concerns about the feasibility of her new romance, she still glowed as with an inner flame, and, she reflected, it would be as useless to try to conceal it as it would be to cover up a bonfire in the backyard. So Anne passing by the stairs received the full bloom of Rilla's smile rather than the woefully half-suppressed affairs Rilla had been trying on while she descended two steps at a time. 

"Dearest!" Anne exclaimed, extending her arms to her daughter, not fully enlightened as to the cause of her joy but taking advantage of it all the same. Perhaps a certain sixth sense of love, which Anne would most assuredly have had if anyone did, whispered the reason, for why else would she smile so knowingly? In any case the knowledge between them was unspoken, and Rilla found a glamour or, rather, a new perspective settle over her eyes in joining her family. 

Nan, ever the more out-of-touch of the two twins, carelessly tossed Rilla an envelope. "This was at the post office for you." _Did my nose used to be that much in the air?_ Rilla wondered with a touch of chagrin. The note, she was delighted to see, was from Mrs. Anderson, little Jims's step-mother, detailing a short but charming account of his latest exploits, and asking if she could bring him down the next day. "Jims has been asking to see 'Willa' for days now," Sophie laughingly wrote. "I fear you have spoiled him for life. But then there are worse things than having an excuse to see you again, Miss Blythe." _Indeed!_ she smiled. _She must be lonely, this young English woman. I should call on her tomorrow_ _when I pick up Jims._ It was the kind of thought that wouldn't have occurred to the impulsive Rilla of four years ago, or perhaps even to the Rilla of a few weeks ago.

Dr. Blythe greeted her, fondly patting her hair out of habit (she wondered if she would ever be too grown up for this endearment). "Been lonely while we were all gone?" he said.

"Not overmuch," Rilla managed. 

Di flashed her a grin, thereby showing off the kindly smile and saucy disposition she had inherited from their father. "Anybody call?" 

Rilla's voice was almost perfectly nonchalant as she folded up her letter and answered, "Only Ken Ford." 

"Kenneth Ford?" Anne's attention had been firmly caught. "I had no idea he was back!"

"Oh. Yes. He just arrived today. I think it was announced in the paper." _The one I poured over twenty times until Dad threw it out._

"Fe-fi-fo-fum, Rilla, and why would Kenneth Ford spend his first steps in Canada racing back to our house?" Di's eyes danced with mirth. "Methinks our Bertha Marilla will not remain a Blythe much longer." 

Unlike Jem's unspoken devotion to Faith since before the war, Rilla had revealed her hope – which until today had been no more than a hope – to none but her mother and, she remembered with bittersweet acuteness, Walter. Not even Susan knew, who had been there that fateful night when Ken took his farewell…though it had certainly been close (the recollection brought a wry smile to Rilla's lips), as they had shared their first kiss while Susan's back was turned. The carefulness with which Rilla guarded her secret had been a boon during the humiliating interim of time when Ken dropped all communication and her dreams had seemed so foolish and mistaken. Now however it came as a complete surprise to several members of her family.

"Rilla? Are in love with Ken Ford?" her father asked gently.

"I have been in love with him these four years," she said, a sudden confidence and spontaneity in her voice. "But…I was – unsure of his affections until today. Mother knew – " Rilla gave her mother an appreciative glance " – at least, she knew that I loved him. I was too new at it all to tell whether it meant more than casual interest to him…until he came this afternoon."

"Yes indeed, the sparks did fly," Jem contributed helpfully. 

"Would somebody please shut him up?" demanded Rilla. "I'm pouring out my life story and he's – making _fun!_" Anne laughed gaily and not without a note of sympathy, appearing to be fully relishing the romance between her youngest daughter and the son of her friend Leslie West. At heart mother was still a romantic, Rilla realized, underneath the gallant front she had put up all this time. 

"So the delinquent young man felt perfectly comfortable taking liberties with your sister, even with you present?" Gilbert inquired of Jem with mock outrage.

"Dad!" Rilla cried. "He _does_ mean to come down and ask your permission and whatever else is proper. And it wasn't as if Mother didn't know. She's approved of it all along."

"Nooo, I refuse to take the witness stand in all of this," Anne said sweetly, turning in the direction of the kitchen, where the sounds issuing forth from it proclaimed that Susan was already reestablishing dominion of her kingdom. "You will simply have to reach an amicable settlement yourselves." Her hand briefly touched Rilla's shoulder before she disappeared through the door. Nan had wandered out long prior to this point, while Di took the opportunity to slip up the stairs.

With the greatest seriousness and kindness in his voice, the doctor said, "It was my hope that I could see each of my children find as great happiness in marriage as I have. One has only to look at you, Rilla, to see that you have found it. You have my fondest blessing…but I can't give you up without something like a pain at losing my baby girl."

"I will always be that," she avowed, and came to his arms which had been her first and constant security. Both pairs of hazel eyes winked treacherously as she said, "I will not exchange one family for another…I'll only add a new love to the rest."


	4. Fate and Irene Howard Don't Mix

Author's note: I'm sorry for not updating in a long time – life has dumped a lot of spring events on my hands (that's the short story version). But things are definitely heating up for the usually placid Rilla…

_Usual Disclaimer: These are NOT *sob* my characters, but L.M. Montgomery's. This story is not written for any profit nor to change any of the characters for my own benefit, but purely for the enjoyment of myself and others._

center~*~/center

"Phone for you, Rilla." The eyes of the damsel in question fluttered open to see Di poking her red-curltouseled head inside the door of Rilla's bedroom. 

"This early?" Rilla growled a bit to herself and stretched herself out more under one of Mrs. Lynde's apple quilts.

"You're the sleepyhead of the family! Honestly, if my sweetheart was on the phone first thing in the morning, I'd be right there before the second ring."

"What?!" The covers were thrown back and Rilla sprang out of bed. 

Di grinned and said over her shoulder as she left, "How did I know that would do the trick?"

With a few deft movements Rilla had gathered her dressing gown around her waist, smoothed her hair a bit, and was halfway down the stairs, passing Di on the way. As luck would have it, her father was sitting at the small table in the kitchen reading the newspaper, and Susan had just gone out to the garden, likely to return at any second. _Always an audience_, Rilla groaned to herself before picking up the telephone

"Rilla?"

"Oh, Ken, hello! I apologize for keeping you waiting – "

"Don't worry about it…I didn't wake you, did I?" A roguish tone crept into his voice, and Rilla could hear a dozen receivers going down along the phone lines. _An audience of 50, no less._

"No, not at all!" _That was Di's doing._ She couldn't stifle a yawn in time, and even through the none-too-clear St. Mary lines she was sure he could hear.

"I see…well, I was calling to ask if you wanted to come down to the cove today. My parents just got back – they're staying at the House of Dreams, and I thought we could talk, have dinner…"

"Kenneth Ford, are you asking me on a date?"

He laughed. "No, I'm asking my fiancee to meet my parents."

There – now the whole glen knows we're engaged! Rilla was both chagrined and exhilarated. "Ah, but they've already met me."

"But never as my fiancee."

"True. And that of course is the crucial difference."

"You've got it. Knowing Mother, she'll want to start making wedding plans right away."

"Especially if she and my mother join forces. Of course," Rilla's voice dropped, "I wouldn't make too much of a protest myself."

She had forgotten how intimate his laugh could be…even across a crackly connection. "To be honest, neither would I. Nor would I protest if you came early."

"I have a play date with Jims this morning, but I'm free after that. Would noon be all right?"

"As I said, you can't come too early. I love you."

She blew a kiss into the phone. "Right back at you. Bye!"

~*~

As soon as she could make herself presentable, Rilla collected her cards (Anne was a firm believer in calling cards, though it _was_ practically a new decade), snatched her umbrella in case of rain, and took a quick survey of herself in the mirror. Her new hat – oh the joy! the hated green velted she had worn since the war began was in the refuse pile and a new delicate blue creation purchased – was perched at a delicious angle, and complemented her simple cotton dress the color of cornflowers. _Of course Jims never cares what I wear, but he loves blue…_

It was surprising how differently her thoughts tended as opposed to the Rilla of her girlhood. Then she had found it difficult to stay on any serious subject for long and soon drifted towards more corporeal, frivilous matters. Now it was hard for her to simply dwell on any thoughts of dress, fashion, or parties without her thoughts turning in some way to people connected to her, or being drawn down a contemplative path of some sort. _Perhaps I am learning how to truly love…_

Well, it was making her more into the person she wanted to be, but it certainly didn't help her much around some of her old 'friends,' she snorted, giving the reins of the family horse-and-buggy an extra flourish. Hazel, Irene Howard…with people like Irene, there was hardly any way to open one's mouth and be civil, and without trivial things to talk about like they used to, there simply was nothing to talk about. Their Junior Red Cross organization had dissolved a month after news of the war's end had come, so there wasn't even that to fall back on. And Irene rarely made it through a conversation with Rilla without sneaking in several stings of pain and at least one honeyed personal dig. 

But one couldn't ride in the open air with a spring sun shining gloriously and tumbling green countryside passing by and continue thinking of such gloomy thoughts as Irene Howard…especially when there were far pleasanter reflections to be entertaining. Rilla breathed in the crispness of the airy zephyr that enveloped the road. Her heart felt lighter than she could ever remember it feeling. She urged on Ladybird, who caught her mood and breezily cantered the rest of the short distance into town. 

"Willa!" Jims's triumphant cry greeted her from the yard of the Anderson home, a small but tidy residence in a good neighborhood of Glen St. Mary (thanks in part to Mrs. Matilda Pitman). Rilla hopped down from the buggy and received the fierce onslaught of the little boy with open arms. "And how are YOU?" she inquired as she lifted him up with difficulty up to eye level for a second, then pretended to collapse from the weight, bringing him down with her in a laughing heap. Mrs. Anderson appeared on the porch, aproned and kerchiefed. Flushed, Rilla scrambled up, still laughing. "I came as early as I could, but I'm afraid Jims's standards of early are different from the rest of the world's."

"Indeed, Miss Blythe!" Sophie Anderson's merry voice matched her face. "Jims is truly incorrigible. Won't you stay a minute and talk…?"

"Let's go NOW!" Jims insisted, tugging on Rilla's dress.

"Perhaps when we come back," Rilla smiled. "This one will not take no for an answer." She swung Jims up onto the seat of the buggy, nudged him over, and sat down beside him. "We'll be back shortly!"

Oh how beautiful everything was! There was no dust on the roads to spoil the verdant green vistas of the view, and all around were the new sounds of spring. Jims chatted complacently beside her, content to do most of the talking (_I'll just listen for the "whys"_), and Rilla sighed with happiness, extending her magnaminity to the rest of the world. There was not one person she could not smile at…

Irene Howard's unmistakeably condescending address could be heard from the chaise approaching from the opposite direction. Rilla knew she had tempted Fate too irresistably, and Fate had given in to the delightful impulse to irk her. "Why hello Irene!" Sweetness could be a two way street.

"Oh isn't that lovely, taking dear Jims for a country drive!" Somehow Irene managed to make this simple remark sound as though Rilla was terribly oldfashioned and childish.

"We thought we'd enjoy the weather and find a nice spot to play," Rilla simpered through clenched teeth. 

"I was traveling myself to Harland's. The season is just getting underway, you know, and I have nothing, absolutely nothing to wear."

"I'm sure you don't, Irene." Rilla had to smile, however bitterly it came.

"But Willa, she's wearing something *now*," Jims said from her other side.

"I haven't seen _you_ much at the parties lately, Rilla. You really should get out more often, now that you don't have Jims to take care of. There are _dozens_ of soldiers returning now who are simply _divine_ dancers…" Irene smirked and tittered to herself. "Oh but I almost forgot…you are infatuated with Kenneth Ford, aren't you?"

"How did you hear?" Rilla's brow furrowed. "You were listening this morning, weren't you?"

"Don't get self-righteous with _me_, Rilla Blythe! You know you do it all the time! Besides, you sometimes hear things to your advantage…" Irene drew her very chic chaise up besides Rilla's buggy. "For instance, you might have heard the phone call Ken made to Ethel Reese yesterday…"

"That's a lie! He was with me nearly the whole evening…" Rilla could feel her temper rising, and her pulse started to pound.

"Oh, I think there's a lot of things you could learn about Ken Ford if you picked up the phone once in a while." Irene smiled her superior, perfect-toothed smile, and leaned forward conspiratorilly. "As an old friend, Rilla dear, let me give you a warning about the charming Kenneth Ford."

"Thank you very much, Irene, but your warning will have to wait till another day." Rilla adjusted her reins. "Jims and I are late. Good day." Flicking the lead, she spurred Ladybird on and escaped from Irene's oppressive stare. 

_You're a fool for letting a jealous cat spoil your happiness._ Her heart still raced from the jabs given and the accusations made, and nothing Rilla could rationalize or explain away made the words disappear. She remembered how Irene's talk in the past, though exaggerated and warped, almost always started with a grain of truth. She rode in silence, saying over and over to herself that Irene was lying this time.

"Willa, is she the devil's sister?" Rilla was startled out of her revery by the small voice of Jims.

"James Kitchener Anderson! Don't ever let me hear you talk like that again!" Her own misgivings from yesterday, the weight of Irene's terrible hints, and the hurt look on Jims's face all gathered upon her once bright and hopeful spirit, and sunk her heart down to her toes. She closed her eyes, feeling tears prick the back of her eyelids and slip down her cheeks. "Jims," she gasped, catching him in her arms while letting the reins drop to her lap. Tangible pain shot into her heart. "Forgive me, forgive me. She is not a nice person, but we shouldn't speak badly about other people." He burrowed into her side, and she thought miserably, But I must think badly of her, and believe she is lying. Otherwise…


End file.
